


It's a (car) metaphor

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Crack, M/M, car enthusiast/mechanic au, fluff??, just a stupid little thing really, pre-Maylor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Roger's car has been totalled. A long man in a jumpsuit has fixed itStupid Maylor oneshot!





	It's a (car) metaphor

Roger had practically given up on his beloved car. He'd crashed while going too fast (high speed collision! He was lucky to have escaped with only a couple of scars) and now everyone was telling him that there was no hope, that this car would go into the dumpster. Repairing the pieces would cost too much and some of the damage couldn't be undone. The car was long gone and there was nothing that could be done about it.

He should have been more careful. For all the love and gentleness he had with his drum set, Roger could be a bit reckless with his cars. He enjoyed going very fast, he felt that the world was finally going at his speed and he felt that he and the car were becoming one. It was a really great feeling and despite the risks and the scars, Roger was glad to be able to do it. Maybe there was some kamikaze gene hidden around in his DNA, who knew.

And this car had been special. This car had been chosen by him amongst thousands, this car he had bought completely with money made from music for the first time, this car that had so many good memories in it. Roger absolutely loved this car, not just for what it was but for all the moments it had given him, all the good times they'd had together. And now he was being told that he had to sell it for pieces.

As a last resort, Roger asked his good friend John, who had some experience building and dismantling things. Although John usually did more electronic stuff, he was good at repairing things that were beyond repair, and Roger trusted him. But John refused, because he knew how much Roger loved that car, and didn't want to get in the middle of that. But he referred him to some other obscure garage. Roger had been a bit afraid at first, but really, what could be worse? His car was already beyond help.

It was a miracle. The car even sounded better, it had all its parts, the gear was working, hell, everything was working! When he'd been told that there was nothing that could be done for his car, somebody had come out of the blue and brought it back to its former glorious state. It must have been a lot of work - and a lot of talent was required to be able to do a job as fine as that. Really, someone in that small garage was an actual genius.

Roger knew that his car was just an object and that there were other things that were more important... But that piece of metal meant a lot to him and a lot of his joys, of his happiest moments had been in that car. When he had a bad moment, he could always go for a ride and cheer himself up. He loved the sound it made, he absolutely adored the way it purred. That car was a part of him as much as his drumstick or his long hair, and someone had gone and saved it from oblivion.

He could kiss this person.

After a couple of rides in his newly revived car, Roger decided that he needed to ta¡hank to perform who had made this incredible deed. He went to the little garage where there was some nice old rock and roll playing. Good omen, that was for sure. He saw the owner and explained who he was and what he wanted. The man smiled.

“He did a fine job, didn't he? Took him long days and nights, but he's a bit of a perfectionist.”

  
“So it wasn't you?”

“It certainly wasn't, son. It was the handiwork of my newest recruit, young skinny lad like yourself, the one who puts all of this godawful music.”

“Could I pop by, say thanks for his work, maybe buy him a beer?”

“Sure, the boy does look like he's in need of some company and some good ol' drinking. You go downstairs and to the left, he's working on some other car.”

And so Roger did go down and to the left, to find this person who apparently was his age and yet knew more about fixing cars than many other people twice his age. The mechanic in question was humming to the song (what was it? Led Zep?) and he was messing with something on the motor of a black van. It was only back, but Roger somehow knew that this was the back of the man that had given him hope when there was none (ok, so maybe he was bit melodramatic in what concerned his car. It was a special bond, ok? Ridiculed and hard to explained, but there), and this man, with his blue jumpsuit back deserved all the compliments.

“You saved my car.”

The mechanic realised that there was someone else in the room and turned around. He was probably the longest man Roger had ever seen, million curls floating around his face and a face stained with black grease on the left his forehead and both his cheeks, making him look like some sort of abstract painting.

“You must be John's friend.” The mechanic said, wiping his hand with a white rag and offering it. “I'm Brian. I'm glad you're happy with the result, it was a bit of a challenge.”

“Well, you did it, buddy. Saved my car when everyone told me that it was dead. And it might be stupid to get so attached to a car, but...”

“No, I understand. If something happened to my guitar I think I would be as heartbroken as you.”

“Guitar? You play the guitar too?”

“Yeah, it is my main passion. It was building my guitar that I discovered I was good at assembling and fixing things.”

Roger felt his knees tremble. This was a man who knew how to save cars from the brink of death and fucking build guitars. There was only one thing that could be done about that.

“Brian, can I invite you to a drink? To thank you for the car and all that.”

“Sure, let me just get changed....”

“No. Like this. Grease and all.”

Roger smiled. It was a metaphor, you know. The grease was a metaphor of what a dirty boy he was about to become. Dirty, greasy, and absolutely all for him.

That Roger bowed on his car.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked!
> 
> You know you want to comment!


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